


nothing feels like you

by Mariss95



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Ficlet Collection, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mayor Oliver Queen, OlicityHiatusFic, OlicityHiatusFic-A-Thon, Post-Season/Series 01, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Season/Series 03, Season/Series 05, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-05 18:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11018673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariss95/pseuds/Mariss95
Summary: second ficlet collectionolicity hiatus fic-a-thon: chapters 3, 5, 6





	1. 3 out of 6

**Author's Note:**

> Here comes a new space for my olicity small stories, unconnected and of various genres and worlds.  
> Could be responses to prompts or challenges. If something is M/E rated, it'll be stated in each chapter, as will the universe and premise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set post season 3  
> written for the past mtv fandom awards, playing of olicity being ship three out of six  
> [[tumblr post](http://releaseurinhibitions.tumblr.com/post/122487245547/mylunarsolstice-mtv-nominee-3-of-6-like-or)]

“ _3 out of 6?_ Really, three feels like the perfect number to settle with.”

Oliver chuckles at her side, a firm hand laying over Felicity’s fidgeting one on her thigh.

“I thought when this started you said ‘bring it on’.”

“Yes, I did; but I may have just wanted to make a reference to the movie.”

His eyebrows knit in confusion, eliciting a hushed ‘never mind’ from Felicity as she files one more movie away to the never-ending list of things Thea and her have to make Oliver catch up with.

“What’s wrong with six?”

“Oh nothing. Six is a wonderful number. I love all numbers really: binary, in sequence; they’re all my friends. Now when they’re applied to number of times I have to humiliate myself in public, or listen to ‘secretary to girlfriend’ jokes, _then_ I start minding.”

His brow furrows with concern now as he gently tugs her hand for her attention.

“Hey. I’m sorry. I wish we didn’t have to–”

“I know,” she whispers, slowing down. “As I know it’s just the novelty of it, that it’ll pass, and that you sure are getting your fair amount of jokes on me ‘wearing the pants’ in this relationship since I run your company now.”

Both wince in disgust at every cheap word thrown their way, twisted into jokes and pleasantries. Yet, as usual and much to his relief, Felicity soon lightens the mood.

“I still think three is a pretty decent number to stop. Always helps end my rants with countdowns, is the number of names QC has had since we’ve worked there; even the number of years it took us to get here…”

His thumb begins tracing circles on the back of her hand. A quiet calm settles between them in the back of the car; her heels lying on the floor, his tie undone.

It’s not long before his lips curve upwards, a warmth wrapping around his heart he never wishes to stop.

“Okay,” he finally breathes, seeing joy burst in her sight, “three is the number.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> please leave kudos/comment :)


	2. the life he wants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set in 4x01  
> fluff piece inspired by the season 4 trailer  
> [[tumblr post](http://releaseurinhibitions.tumblr.com/post/128360505627/fluffy-ficlet-inspired-by-this-moment-in-the-s4)]

He should already be used to this.

They’ve been together for months. Months of having the luxury to stare at her, openly; no more longing or holding back, just love and emotion that he’s lucky enough to see reflected in Felicity’s eyes as she looks up from her… cookbook?

Yes, he’s gotten to see this side of her, uninterrupted, every day; yet the warmth that overtakes him as a smile lifts the corner of her lips gets to him every time.

“Oliver, this is me noticing you staring.”

He chuckles, happily, as he’s finally getting used to do. He could wittily banter back, that’s what they’re like now. Yet as she bounces down from the counter and walks towards him, other words work their way to his tongue.

“I love you.”

That he’s never going to get over saying. Or feeling.

And he’ll gladly spend the rest of his life watching her face light up at that simply sentiment. So simple yet all-encompassing.

No words, just one step until she’s leaning into him, smiles closing on one another as Oliver thinks this is it.

This is the life he wants. Forever and always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> please leave kudos/comment :)


	3. a sight to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set between season 1-2 (I know, throwback)  
> written for the olicity hiatus fic-a-thon | prompt: summer vacation  
> [[tumblr post](http://releaseurinhibitions.tumblr.com/post/161184117342/a-sight-to)]

A sight to die for.

Sun-kissed shoulders and golden strands of hair lightly blowing with the wind. Tiny freckles painting the small tender patch of skin on her shoulders.

He feels like reaching out to brush his fingers over it ever so slowly, smiling at the simple thought of her softness and warmth beneath his lips. Of the wonderful sigh of surprise she'd let out at the mere contact, just a whisper of a touch but so much more for him.

Yes, basked in this sunset glow, the now-comfortably warm sand beneath his skin, Oliver allows himself to admit he has a thing for her shoulders. That his eyes gravitate towards the way she navigates a room, so petite yet commanding with her ever-present strength that is as inspiring as terrifyingly scary at times. That he's maybe purposely reached out to her that way, a tap so fast that could go unnoticed –except it didn't, by her, as anything does–, but that leaves an echoing effect to his whole being.

In the calm surrounding this moment, his eyes are focused on them, on her, on everything before his eyes that helps him breathe a little easier.

Wisps of her hair sway with the breeze, tickling her skin, making sweet laugher pass her lips. He smiles, just a tug on the corner of his lip; but of the first welcomed lines on his face in what feels like forever.

And just like laughter, the wind brings forth a scent; sweet, gentle, _her_.

Oliver fills his lungs, breathing in hope, warming him inside out.

A flurry of words come next. Not from his lips, sealed together in a grin now –grimace for so long–. But hers, delicate, deliberate and wandering all at once. A contradiction of sorts that makes perfect sense. And, without need of honing in on them, taking them apart and uncover its secrets, he takes them in too. Because they're pure, true and out there, as clear as the ocean waves drifting back and forth just out of touch.

The light glow that remains at this time of day makes the blue water glisten; flashes of light here and there, all kinds of hues making the once harrowing sight beautiful. It's even more so when her hand lifts up, lavender-colored nails drawing invisible patters on the air, making his eyes dance around in front of him. She's connecting the dots on the current, she says; and it makes her smile widen, so he's all for it.

Soon she starts humming, an unknown lullaby that feels like a caress. He lets it take over him, all of it, releasing the packed handful of sand from his fist, the tight hold of his shoulders. Curving his back, Oliver leans forward, his fingers tracing patters of his own. A few letters, turning into a name, that goes through his entire being and pours from his lips. Just a breath, a whisper of everything he's feeling in this very moment. Of serenity and the ever elusive happiness he's become such a stranger to he's grown afraid of not recognising anymore.

And before the sound leaves his body, his eyes fall closed, hearing, and sensing, and basking on what surrounds him.

_Felicity._

He awakes with a start.

The sun's gone down, his skin's prickling cold. The ocean's black or dark blue; the light is too dim for him to see. And the silence… the silence is deafening in its intensity.

It wasn't real, it can't be. But he wishes it were.

Fear and surprise overcome him at the thought. They're welcomed, much preferred over the all-encompassing grief and sorrow that have been his sole companions for the last three months.

But he doesn't deserve it. To feel that well, that content, that _alive_.

To feel _her_.

Because even in the dream his touch would've been calloused and marked by violence. His mouth rough with the over-grown beard shadowing his face. His voice raspy with disuse, and worthless in its promises. His being hollow and broken apart.

He doesn't even deserve the thought of it. She doesn't deserve it, him, any of it.

So a part of him wants to erase the mere thought of it all, the idea of taking comfort in anything that takes away the pain he should be enduring. That part believes he has to carry the burden of all the suffering and death he's been a part of creating, of perpetuating. Of Tommy and all the other people who, in the dead of the night, scream in his ear of his failures and short-comings.

But then there's her voice.

The plea in those heart-broken sounds he's listened to in a voicemail a dozen weeks ago. The last voice apart from his own he's heard in his waking hours since he left.

Maybe that's the reason she makes up that mirage in his dreams; he likes to convince himself.

Or maybe those hushed words of 'stay,' 'we'll fight through it,' and 'I'm here for you' resonate deeper in his soul that he's braved to admit.

His breathing's back to normal now. He raises his fist, twists his hand upwards and slowly lets the pressure go, as a distant melody flows through him. The sand drifts from his parted fingers, the cold breeze reminding him of golden hair and freckles in the sun. Of the mere idea of a tomorrow that is not drowning on yesterday's losses.

And just for a moment, the first of many to come –to his surprise– he lets himself think and feel everything she urged him to believe in those words now etched on his memory. He looks ahead and pictures, as clearly as his fogged mind allows him to, the gleaming lights on the water and her lips stretched in a breathtaking smile.

Oliver can almost feel her warmth, and believe the trust and hope in her eyes beckoning him home. And, at last after a summer of misery and unrelenting darkness, his sight's set on something different.

A sight to live for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> please leave kudos/comment :)


	4. utterly irrational

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set in a happy time nearing the end of season 5, with olicity reconnected  
> prompt: Mayor Oliver Queen doing an obstacle course for charity (much to Felicity’s enjoyment)  
> inspired by [this post](http://releaseurinhibitions.tumblr.com/post/161162237463/imusuallyobsessed-pleasantfanandstudent). dedicated to [imusuallyobsessed](http://archiveofourown.org/users/imusuallyobsessed) :)  
> [[tumblr post](http://releaseurinhibitions.tumblr.com/post/161228382167/utterly-irrational)]

It's irrational.

She has like five years of watching Oliver Queen be a physical wonder under her belt.

Five years of him working out, muscles flexing, sweat-drenched skin, steel-focused gaze. Of plain t-shirts that cling tighter and tighter to his defined physique the more he pushes himself. And let's not forget the bulging biceps that strain sleeves to a breaking point as he hammers that damn tire right in front of her work station.

And then there's the whole new level of bittersweet torture that is shirtless Oliver Queen working out to her. For her. (Because why else would he ever need to do push ups from the damn pipes on the ceiling right over her chair?)

So yes, considering all the completely unfair, and borderline rude, exposure she's had to Oliver's everything –especially taking into account the vast amount of time that she hadn't been privy to the touch–, her body's reaction right now is utterly irrational.

But Felicity can't help how her breath catches in her throat as he lunges forward, his body expertly swinging and landing with a ridiculous amount of grace for such a massive man. Can't control her hand tugging at her suddenly too tight collar when he smiles smugly, having crushed half the course in such great time. Can barely keep her jaw from dropping when the shirt he has on rides up with every leap he takes.

Felicity Smoak is very openly staring and pining for the Mayor, just as much as any other member of Star City watching him literally own this physical challenge. And yes, it's very impressive in a sport-like fashion that is to be applauded and praised for its athleticism and everything she tries to enjoy when Oliver points it out when 'they' watch sports; but _also_ , it's a visual treat.

The fact that he looks that ridiculously good doing this is probably half the reason the Star City's Health Initiative asked him to do this. As the Mayor he'd attract views. As Oliver Freaking Queen, he'll attract anybody with a pulse.

"I feel like I shouldn't be looking, but how can one look away?" Curtis says from right next to her, breaking her stare-down with Oliver's ninja moment.

She laughs freely, knowing what he feels so well, then turns back to the excited look on Oliver's face as he passes another stage and zeroes in on what comes next: the salmon ladder.

"Oh no," she breathes, already feeling her cheeks redden as he of course lands spot on, getting a range of 'ooh's and 'yes' from the crowd –and a muted 'damn' from Curtis that makes his husband chuckle–.

Felicity however can't look away from Oliver's arms, as his fists twist on the bar testing his grip. From the tip of his tongue poking out in concentration, and then the tight set of his jaw when he makes a chin up with a flourish at the end –as he'd so easily put it the other day when he'd had her try it–. With the next rod climbed her mind drifts to the first time he'd done this ridiculous but totally appreciated work-out in the lair; how Dig had rolled his eyes and shaken his head smiling, and the way her jaw had hit the ground. Here the crowd cheering him on drowns the _thunk_ she knows every level up entails, its echo and Oliver's low grunt of effort resounding in her ears, as familiar as him whispering her name.

And then, as soon as he makes it to the top, a familiar satisfaction paints his stunning features.

Sometimes it's been manifested as a barely there smile as he's dropped to the ground and carried on with his day –asking for a target, running down lead, or taking her home with the promise of a nice bottle of wine–. Others it's with a ridiculous growl because, even though he made it, he's still not done working through whatever issue made him beat his body up for the evening –on those days, she's casually worked through with him, or then tempted him away with an offer of big belly burger and understanding smiles–.

But right now she's focusing on the third kind. The ones when he's done but still charged and ready; not with anger but with lust. For her.

On those heavenly occasions, first fantasies –when he couldn't _possibly_ be thinking of her like that, because of the life that he leads– then overwhelming but oh so welcomed realities, he lets himself drop effortlessly to the ground then strides purposely and without hesitation to her.

Most times she is ready and there with him, work having left her mind twenty keystrokes into his workout. Others she's uselessly reluctant to his advances because 'Oliver, I'm still not done working, there's a lot to be done before–' and whichever it is usually ends up for after he's done blowing her mind away.

However, right now this is simply inconvenient and oh so unfair because a) he's way too far away from reach; b) they're in public; and c) this is for _charity_ , she should definitely _not_ be enjoying this so much. But she is.

And really who can blame her when, after another ridiculous show of strength and agility in the way of long jumps, he reaches the end, and with the biggest smile she's just getting used to seeing again on his face, Oliver jumps straight into the swimming pool beneath.

"Oh, come on!" she lets out without thought.

Laughter echoes around her. But, _for real_? He's now dripping wet, the once-white t-shirt now borderline see-through and plastered to every line of his abs.

This is straight-up rude.

I mean, generous really, because not only has he helped raise so much money and attention for a worthy cause, and made many people's evening, for sure. But it's also torture, since a part of her is still not used to being able to look and touch and be with him again. Getting reacquainted with Oliver's everything has proven to be highly addictive and tough to control.

Another part of her is pretty proud and happy for him, for how carefree and satisfied he seems up there. Achieving that, in front of a crowd and press has taken a journey. He'd argue it has more to do with what he's doing –something physical that is as natural as breathing for him–; but she knows the Oliver Queen that leads the city forward, out in the open and in the cover of night, stands taller and stronger than ever before.

His eyes find hers as he lifts onto the final platform and faces the people at last. Their roars of appreciation jolt her back to action –instead of reaction, as it's reigned her body from the moment he started this damn, wonderful course–. Her bright smile and loud cheer make his lips widen, light shining in his blue gaze, that barely strays from hers to take it all in then comes back home, as it's become their thing.

Then, to throw her mind to the gutter in 0.5 seconds, as it's always been _his_ thing with and for her, the asshole _winks_ at her. She does her blinky-wink back –as he's so affectively teased her about–, and whispers a promise of later.

When they finally get back to their loft hours later, she puts the very irrational and exasperating reaction her body and mind have to him to good use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> please leave kudos/comment :)


	5. all I want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set after 2x23 (including the alternative scene in the Queen Manor)  
> written for the olicity hiatus fic-a-thon | prompt: taste  
> [[tumblr post](http://releaseurinhibitions.tumblr.com/post/161831843477/all-i-want)]

He can’t stop thinking about it.

Big, beautiful eyes, the darkest shade of blue he’d ever seen, filled with so many questions that somehow ended up as his name. The flicker of her lashes, lowering to his lips once the furrow between her brows disappeared as his intent downed on her. Her mouth parted, full and engaging, that he allowed himself to focused on at last.

‘ _I love you,_ ’ he’d whispered, hating and loving the sound of it coming from his lips; knowing it was being ripped out from within, yet feeling a wave of relief at saying it out loud.

He can still so very clearly hear the little gasp she let out at his words; breathless and wordless, as he’d rarely seen her.

Then, flicking his sight to hers and down once more, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards –as he’s grown used to do with her, _because_ of her–, he’d taken a step closer, leaving them barely inches apart.

And so, throwing caution to the wind and completely embracing the fall, he’d leant forward, tilting his head down, reaching and asking and pleading in his silence. And she’d met him halfway, shifting upwards with caution and delicacy, giving in and filing doubts away.

The whisper of a touch had set them off, her lips to his, his breath to hers. Tentative yet laden with emotion, he’d taken her in, mouth gently caressing hers, pressing not pulling, his body frozen in place.

Her hand reached out to him, grasping his arm and pulling him that much closer, saying ‘ _yes_ ’ in the form of a small puff of air that hit his lips as they parted slightly. One he took and followed through diving in once again, because he simply couldn’t not.

His mouth landed on hers, coaxing it open and firing up what’s keeping him awake and arrowing tennis balls to the wall at the moment.

Her _taste_.

A mix of coffee and chocolate, surely from the snacks she always keeps in her purse. And a warmth, inviting and invigorating, so addictive that within seconds he knew he’d never have enough. 

His skin prickles at the memory of her touch through the green leather she’s helped him protect tugging him forward; her moan he’d selfishly swallowed and countered with a hand on her lower back, erasing all space left within them.

A thrill like no other had overtaken him at the brush of her lips, at the feeling of her tongue against his, her taste flooding his mouth. Rich, and heady, and unforgettable.

No matter how hard he tries, it’s still all he can think about when he allows himself to really look at her. Just falls into a daze where everything is Felicity and what they were, what they could be.

Another arrow swishes through the air towards its target, his breathing’s ragged –just as it was when they had parted at last; chest heaving, her fingers still clutching at his bicep, their lips coated in their unspoken truth.

Then he had ruined it, of course, in the form of a syringe and a plea for help that she’d bravely taken and driven home –as she’s always done. And later on he’d smothered the flame and buried the embers, remaining silent at her olive branch on the island’s beach; foolishly letting her think he’s done and over thinking and feeling and living what they had in that stolen moment.

Yet it’s all he can do. In every breath taken when she’s around, every time his treacherous eyes lower to her full lips, without taking action. He can barely stop himself from thinking back to it all, losing himself in the promise of happiness and more he found in the confines of her lips, a taste he’ll long for until his dying breath. 

The beeping from the door bursts his bubble this time. He lowers the bow to his side and unclenches his too-tight fists. And then it all hits him again because she’s there, up the stairs, with the same look in her darkened eyes that he’s undoubtedly steered her way every day since it happened.

One step at the time they come together; her thoughts jumbling into his name again: a whisper, plea and question that wakens his will until her taste is taking over him again, willingly and without pretence, for now and forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> please leave kudos/comment :)


	6. both of us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set during [this scene](http://releaseurinhibitions.tumblr.com/post/162913402592) in 4x01  
> written for the olicity hiatus fic-a-thon | prompt: comfort  
> [[tumblr post](http://releaseurinhibitions.tumblr.com/post/162913641672/both-of-us)]

Selfish. Irresponsible. Dangerous.

That's how he's felt every time he's let himself have it: her comfort, strength and undying support.

From the very first time he saw her in a dimly lit office at the top of his father's legacy, carving out a smile in his all-too-still lips with her endearing words. To the burst of joy surprisingly lighting up his being with a red pen between cherry lips that spoke free and truthful thoughts. All up to this moment, with her soft caress over his once-marked skin, the warmth of their union still resounding in both of them, carefree joy passing through in clear eyes and wide grins.

Every moment in her presence has been revealing, further drawing him to her. Every tilt of her head and widening of her eyes, flurry of words past entrancing lips, and straightening of her back in determination.

He's been distracted and fascinated by the depth of Felicity, with every new fact uncovered and catalogued under the endless map engraved in his mind. For quite a while he even tried his hardest to suppress the part of him that yearned for more, terrified of getting lost in it, become caught up with longing, want and need, and everything he couldn't and shouldn't let himself have; everything he didn't deserve **–** probably still doesn't, but has stopped fighting.

But, as established, more often than not, he is selfish, self-destructive, weak. Somehow, willingly or not, he's fallen time and again down the path traced by everything that is Felicity.

He could lie and say it was simply for the sake of judging how much he could trust her, how far she'd go along with his crusade. But there always was less study and more relishing in her presence.

In the darkness of his first months back, her voice and cheerful demeanour through it all had been a welcomed breath of fresh air. Soon he'd found himself taking comfort and everything he needed in her: a nod in assurance before going forth with a mission; a breathless gasp at his physical strength; words of encouragement when he felt like a failure. Treacherous smiles appeared on his face, and a foreign warmth seeped into his body; until soon enough, they were his new normal. One that anchored him and guided him in his way, as much as he hoped their team and him in a way were doing for her.

When the shadow of death and hurt that he seemed to bring over himself and anyone close to him fell over her as well, he'd desperately tried to be somewhat of a safe harbour for her as well. He did not felt as steady and grounding as she's always been, but when the strength within her eyes wavered in fear and self-doubt, he'd reached out. A hand on her shoulder showing his presence and open ear when a first life was lost before her eyes. A shadowed silhouette across her apartment, keeping a watchful eye on her haunted self after she'd been taken on the field. The promised bottle of wine after the count almost took her away for good; wandering conversations and faraway memories shared to fill the shadowy corners of her mind; drowning the guilt of his hand on making them so.

He'd judged his success in the glint in her eyes and thankful smiles, the comfortableness building between them showing that maybe, just maybe they could be what brought each other comfort in their best and worst times.

And so with time he'd relaxed his defences, let everything she made him feel and think seep into his being until happiness and that sense of companionship came as easily as breathing. And after struggles, walls rebuilt and then cracked open, he'd completely surrendered to being the Oliver Queen he wants, openly and irrefutably in love with Felicity Smoak. Terrifyingly vulnerable in his wanting and having of her in his life in every capacity, reigning in fears of his toxicity, his lack of worth, him not being enough.

And right here, right now, with her fingers drawing wandering lines on the back of his shoulder, a pleasant humming sound leaving her lips, he smiles at the thought that this may be more than enough for both of them. That the happiness painted in her beautiful features, and surely reflected in his once-worried lines, can be a constant thing built between them, in spite of him and everything he carries with him.

And that comfort he'd so desperately clawed to hold onto with and from her –first full of remorse and trepidation, then turned into excitement and gratefulness– has become a state of ease and relief made of them both, coming together, come rain or come shine. One he vows to cherish and sustain for as long as his heart beats in his chest, for him and her both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> pretty please leave kudos and comment :)

**Author's Note:**

> please leave some feedback on the chapter/s read and enjoyed  
> open to prompts and ideas :)  
> tumblr: /releaseurinhibitions


End file.
